


Surpassing Expectations

by slaymaster



Category: Castle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slaymaster/pseuds/slaymaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Beckett, I wasn’t expecting you” he says as he pulls the door open.<br/>She bites her lip seductively as she pushes past him into his loft. “Castle when will you learn that I don’t live to meet anyone's expectations”. Set mid-season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surpassing Expectations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Written for my friend Laura](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Written+for+my+friend+Laura).



She presses a finger to the button and presses it lightly, waiting for him to answer the door. She lowers her hand and tugs on the tie of her trench coat, eager to take it off. Her body is itching for him; she needs him, and soon. She's so close to him, mere feet from his body, and she's aching to be She can’t wait to shed the coat, although she has to admit she hadn’t realised how soft the smooth silk lining was until now.  
“Beckett, I wasn’t expecting you” he says as he pulls the door open.  
She bites her lip seductively as she pushes past him into his loft. “Castle when will you learn that I don’t live to meet anyone's expectations.”

He was shocked. She knew he was because he stayed where he was for some time. Perfect she thought to herself. After what seemed an eternity (but was probably only a few moments) he closed the door and turned to see her leaning up against his kitchen bench, her long, tanned legs on display. He was powerless, just like she knew he would be.

She watched as he looked slowly from her heels up her svelte legs and the navy trench and then to her face. She knew he was wondering what was under the trench.  
He cleared his throat. “So... what brings you here tonight?”  
“Oh, not much. I was just home, alone, and found myself thinking of you,” she purred, taking a step towards him.  
He choked. “Of-of me?”

She again smiled at him, glancing quickly at his lips, before meeting is baby blues. “Why of course Mr. Castle,” she whispered into his ear as she leaned into him.  
She could feel her desire - her need for him burning deep within, and she could sense that he had a similar longing.

She stepped back, ever so slightly, and brought her hand to the tie of her trench. With a single pull, the light knot was undone and the trench fell open. She felt his eyes burning her skin as he took in the lacy bra and underwear set she was wearing and watched as his eyes fell to the suspenders that held up her thigh-high stockings. She didn’t feel exposed. No. Castle knew her, inside and out.  
She again stepped towards him, letting the trench fall to the ground; she didn’t need it. 

He shuffled closer to her, and she let herself fall into him, her lips meeting his. She had imagined this very moment for years and it was better than she had anticipated; more exhilarating than her wildest dreams. His lips were soft like silk, his light stubble tickling her face as their lips brushed against each other. She lightly bit down on his lip, not so soft that he could miss it, but just hard enough to be playful. In response, his tongue darted into her mouth, brushing lightly against her own tongue.

He pulled away from her mouth, their bodies still intertwined, leading a trail of soft kisses down her neck. She moaned into him and brought her hands up around his neck, running them down his back. She felt his own hands move from where they had rested on her hips, his fingers dancing down her thighs, playing with the suspenders that held up the sheer stockings. His fingers ventured higher as she leaned further into him, bringing her mouth to his ear. She nibbled lightly as his fingers darted underneath the elastic of her underwear, his hands cupping her ass.

She felt his body shift against her own as she kissed along his jawline, again pressing her lips to his. They push their bodies against each other, furiously and breathlessly intensifying the passion. She’s waited so long to be here, doing this with him; she’s fantasized about this exact moment for such a long time. She moans as he kisses her neck once more, bringing her lips towards her chest, resting on the puckered skin where the bullet had entered, his fingers brushing over the scar further down from the heart surgery that ensued. 

Her breathing is shallow. She needs him, now. She pulls him closer, with nothing more than his clothing stopping their skin from touching. She wishes it weren’t there, and she suspects that he wishes the same. 

Suddenly, without warning, he pulls away from her, breaking the contact that she had been craving. She felt like a drug addict going cold-turkey; he was her drug and the simple taste of him had left her wanting more. His hand takes her wrist and their eyes meet, the question asked without words (although he needn’t have asked. One doesn’t show up at someone’s apartment wearing little more than lingerie if they aren’t willing to end up in the bedroom). He leads her to the bedroom, her heart pounding as her dream is within reach.

Her trench coat lies abandoned on the floor.


End file.
